The way things are

2009 wasn't the best year. My lack of posts may lead some to believe I was very busy- too involved with my exciting whirlwind of a life to blog. They couldn't be more wrong.

After last year's Kansas City Marathon, one of the best days of my life, things took a turn. I was sick of thinking about every little thing I ate, bored with running, and tired. I was so very tired. At the time, I was just allowing myself a little break from my fit existence. The break turned into 14 months of a total downward spiral. I've gained every bit of the weight back, and then some. Here's my new "before" picture, which was taken about an hour ago. By the way, that's my sarcastic "fuck you" smile. I haven't genuinely smiled for a photo in months.























On my right ring finger, there's a red indentation that represents where my grandmother's wedding ring used to reside. She gave it to me as a birthday gift in April. Every time I'd visit her, she'd want to hold my hand and look at it. I told her I'd never take it off, and that always made her smile. A few days ago, I had to break that promise. I could feel it getting tighter and tighter as my fingers got fatter, and I was worried that if I didn't remove it soon, I'd have to get the ring cut off. Four days ago, as I pried it off with the help of lots of soap, I cried. Grammy died in July. She's on my mind constantly. Mostly I wonder what her last moments were like, and if she was afraid. I saw her the night before, but I still feel a lot of guilt for not being there during her final moments. Since the nursing home didn't call me to let me know she was rapidly declining, I was at home on the couch, obliviously eating Taco Bell. I will never, ever forget that I was eating fast food while my grandmother was dying. It sickens me to think it. I miss her so much. She was the most generous person I've ever known.























My life has become one of avoidance. I don't make eye contact or engage people in conversation unless social nicety requires it. I rarely go out with my friends, especially the ones who only knew me as a thin person. A few weeks ago, I met my old running gang for brunch. I don't really know what possessed me to say yes, because it was the very last thing I wanted to do. Of course I wanted to see them and catch up with their lives. I missed all the long, sometimes deep, sometimes silly conversations we'd have on our Saturday morning runs. But I didn't want them looking at me. I didn't want them to see what I've let myself become.

With the holidays came the extended family, most of whom hadn't seen me in a year or more. I almost called in sick to Christmas. My relatives are nice people, and I knew they'd never say "Wow, you sure got fat again," but I didn't care. I knew they'd probably think it. I wound up going to Christmas, but I started pounding beers as soon as possible. Each drink helped me to put away the shame, so I could talk to my family.

God, what a mess.

I've been waiting to be ready to start it all over again. I ponder what I did wrong before, and what I did right. I try to get inspired, to remember what got me fired up in 2007 when this all started. Back then, it was the inability to put my shoes on without getting winded, the headaches, and having a revolving credit line at Lane Bryant. Well, that's all back. Okay, maybe not the line of credit at Lane Bryant, but I've shopped there recently.

So there it is. I weigh 286 pounds, and as I type this, I'm wearing the very same fat pants I held up so triumphantly in this picture:





















Once again, I'm back to square one. I've been down both the thin road and the fat road. Even though the thin road may be more difficult to travel on, the air is more clear and its scenery is certainly more pleasant. The clothes fit and the physical limitations are virtually gone. I can breathe when I'm on the thin road.

Forgive the cheesy metaphor, but it's the way things are. So, here we go again.